Twilight: Revamped
by Beth Einspanier
Summary: Bella Swan is sent to live with her father in Forks after her mother remarries, but she discovers that this sleepy town in the Pacific Northwest is home to many dark secrets lurking in the shadows...
1. Foreword

Author's Note

This is meant as a mental exercise, inspired in the wake of reading the first novel of the _Twilight_ series. I believe the universe presented by Ms. Stephenie Meyer holds some potential, and it might have been a better book if some changes had been made to the heroine. I have heard many terms attributed to Isabella Swan (some of them not at all nice), and I think that with a few tweaks to herself and the so-called vampires that inhabit the Twilight world, what currently stands as a bland, melodramatic attempt at paranormal romance may instead make a thrilling horror story. I'm not sure where this story will go, but writing by the seat of my pants should be fun. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do.

Yes, this is sort of a fix fic. Yes, this is a horror story. So, if you don't like reading vampire fiction where the vampires are not angsty, bishonen sex gods but rather undead monsters that feed on the blood of the living, or if you are Team Edward in general, I recommend you read a different _Twilight_ fic. You have been warned.


	2. Chapter 1: The Arrival

CHAPTER ONE

"Hurry up, Bella, or you're going to miss your flight!" my mom called from downstairs. I'd already finished packing my black and purple duffel bag, but I wasn't looking forward to this trip. My mother, Renee, had recently remarried-four years after divorcing my dad Charlie-and my stepfather had decided that he "wasn't ready for kids right now". Needless to say, that meant that my continued presence in Phoenix, Arizona, would be cramping his style. I had to go-and go I would, up north to live with Charlie in Forks, Washington, where I had spent the better part of my childhood. Most of my things had already been sent on to Forks by this time; all that was left was my carry-on bag of essentials.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

My name is Isabella Swan, and my life changed forever when I was seventeen years old.

#

Charlie met me at the airport after my flight. It was a cool, rainy day, and the air was cold and clammy against my skin, reminding me of ghost stories around campfires. It was almost fifty miles outside the city proper, and therefore we had a bit of a drive to get to my new home. I climbed into his old used-to-be-red pickup truck, an elderly vehicle that smelled mainly of motor oil, old upholstery, and an entire childhood of spills and various bouts of carsickness, and shoved my bag under my feet. It was an old, familiar vehicle, with old, familiar memories.

"How was your flight?" he asked me as we set off towards the highway/

"It was okay," I said, "I got crammed in next to some guy who needed to take a shower, but I was able to deal with it."

He smiled. "That's the risk you take, I guess," he said, "Are you looking forward to living in Forks again?"

"Sort of," I said, "I remember Mom was always so unhappy there, but it wasn't so bad."

Charlie's smile faded. "I don't know what it was, either. It's the Olympic Peninsula, not the first circle of Hell. I have to warn you, though, you might lose that tan you've been working on in Phoenix."

I glanced at my arm, which had developed a bit of color during my relatively brief life in Phoenix. Normally I went from white to red without any stops in between, but it was ultimately nearly impossible to live in Arizona and not have a tan. In Forks, however, it was nearly impossible to get a tan in the first place, and apparently not that big of a priority amongst the Washingtonians.

"That's okay," I said, "People who tan are on the road to skin cancer anyway."

Charlie laughed. "You got it, kiddo. The pale shall inherit the earth. Hey, your stuff arrived yesterday. I've got your room pretty much set up upstairs. If you want to redecorate after we get home, let me know."

It had been years since I'd lived in Forks, but I could almost imagine how my room looked the last time I'd seen my old room. It had seemed so empty, like I was abandoning it. In a way, I was-and now I was coming back.

"Did you take care of my enrollment?" I asked.

"You're going to Forks High School," he said-a bit unnecessarily since I only remembered the one high school there, "They've got a decent archery program-I remember you liked that a lot when you were younger. You might meet up with some old friends there."

I doubted it. The only real friend I remembered from my previous life in Fork was Jacob Black, a boy who lived on the La Push reservation not far from Forks. The locals there were a bit insular, so naturally the two of us had forged a close friendship. I wondered what he looked like these days.

"Oh, and I've got a big surprise for you when we get home, so don't let me forget."

"What kind of a surprise?" I asked.

"Oh, I think you'll like it," he said with a cryptic grin. I knew when he got in this sort of mood there would be no getting him to talk until he was ready, so I let it drop.

After a long silence, he spoke again.

"How's your mom?" he asked.

"Remarried," I summarized, "We decided it would be best if I moved back to Forks." It was a lie, I knew. My stepdad Phil decided it would be best if I moved back to Forks, and Renee decided it would be best if she had Phil instead of me. There really wasn't anything I could do about it at this point.

My old house was about like I remembered-a small two story in the suburbs-but in a strange way it also seemed a lot smaller than when I lived there. The colors seemed to be washed out, something I attributed to the perpetual clouds in the sky and the current rainfall. It wasn't pouring down, exactly, just a sort of heavy mist that had a way of soaking anyone who stood in it for too long.

I pulled my bag out of the truck and trotted up the steps to the wooden front porch-it need a fresh coating of paint-and reached for the doorknob. I hesitated, a few inches away. Was this still my house? Could my home be here once again, like it was before? That was hard to determine just yet. It felt almost like home, but it needed that air of familiarity that generall came with the overall feeling of _home_.

Charlie came up the porch behind me.

"Here we are, honey," he said, "Home sweet home." He unlocked the front door and let the two of us in. The cloying feeling that I was still a visitor-that I might always be a visitor-clung to everything around me, even things that I remembered from before. The living room and dining room were populated with brown cardboard boxes plastered with shipping labels-each one bearing my name. Each one bearing my belongings. My home was here. My home was no longer in Phoenix. I was stuck here.

Well. I might as well unpack and set about making this place my home, however un-home-like it felt just then.

I spent the afternoon unpacking and putting my things away, including the leather case that contained my compound longbow-an elegant instrument that had earned me a number of trophies over the years. I checked it over to make sure it hadn't been damaged in transit, nodded in satisfaction that it wasn't, and turned to unpacking my clothes and putting them away in my closet and dresser. My books came next-several tomes by a wide variety of authors ranging from William Shakespeare to Anne Rice. I winced at the thought of the shipping charges for my small library, but I loved to read. Books kept me company during lonely evenings. I piled them on the bookshelf in rough categories-romance, horror, classics-and made a mental note to sort them out properly later.

I didn't realize how long I had spent acclimating myself to my new room until Charlie called me down for dinner. It was simple fare-macaroni and cheese out of a box rather than what Renee made-but I was hungry after the day's activity, and I dug in.

"I talked to Billy Black just before I went to pick you up," Charlie said, offering me a can of soda. I accepted it.

"What's he been up to lately?" I asked.

"Oh, the usual," he said, "His son Jacob heard that you were coming back to live in Forks, and Bill said the two of them would be by to visit sometime after dinner."

My spirits rose, and I wondered what Jacob looked like these days. The last I'd seen him seven years ago he was a gangly kid-admittedly awkward-looking, but he could run like the wind. I chalked it up to his Native American heritage-his tribe, the Quileutes, believed that they were descended from wolves. Or something like that. I found mythology and folklore fascinating to read, but there had to be a line between fact and fiction-and the idea of humans being descended from wolves was pretty cool on paper, but ultimately a bit silly when you thought about it.

In any case, whether or not the wolf thing was true Jacob had always been a good friend, and I looked forward to seeing him again.

"That reminds me," Charlie said as I came to the end of that train of thought, "You remember that surprise I mentioned to you earlier?"

"Yeah?" I said.

"Well, I figured you'd need some sort of transportation to and from school, so I'm giving you the truck."

My mouth opened, but nothing came out immediately. It was true, according to the maps I'd looked at, that Forks High School wasn't within walking distance, and there was nothing about any bus routes due to it being a small town, so I did need a car. The truck wasn't exactly an _ugly_ one, but it lacked the flash of newer cars. On the bright side, this meant that with regular maintenance it would run damn near forever, instead of breaking down if you looked at it funny. I briefly considered livening it up with flames painted on the fenders, but ultimately decided that that would just look ghetto. As it was, it just looked Old and Reliable.

"Thanks, Dad," I said, only half meaning it. A car was a car.

"I _do_ expect you to help pay for the maintenance and gas, you know," Charlie added, "and that means getting a job."

"Dad, I just got here. And shouldn't I be focusing on school?"

"You can do both," he said, "School during the day, work in the evening. I've asked around and there are a couple people who would be willing to hire you part-time."

I could just see any hope of a social life slipping away through my fingers. My head slumped over my nearly-empty plate of mac and cheese-only to snap back up at the sound of a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," Charlie said as he placed his empty plate in the sink. I shoveled the last forkful of dinner into my mouth, wiped my lips on a napkin, and put my plate in the sink while he went to the door.

"Hey there, Billy-boy!" I heard him say from the foyer. "And Jacob! Come to see Bella?"

I took two trotting steps into the hall overlooking the foyer and stopped when I saw the wiry form that could only be Jacob Black, plus seven years since I'd last seen him. God, he was cute. He had the coppery skin and dark hair one would expect from the Quileutes, but instead of dark eyes his were a sort of soft amber color that had always fascinated me. He met my gaze with a broad grin. Beside him, his father grinned from his wheelchair-he'd been paralyzed from the waist down for as long as I could remember, but I don't think I ever heard the story of how it happened.

As Charlie let them in, I finally managed to unroot myself from the floorboards and hurried forward to hug Jacob. His skin was as warm as I'd remembered-he'd always seemed to run hotter than most people when we were children, and this seemed to still be the case now. He folded me in his arms and picked me up effortlessly.

"Hey there, Bella," he finally said after he put me down. He cupped my face in his hands. "How long as it been? Seven years already? Time flies so fast around here. And look at you."

"Look at _you_," I returned. I couldn't stop grinning. Even if life in Forks completely sucked otherwise, at least there was Jacob. Did I mention he was cute?

The phone rang in the middle of the meet and greet, and Charlie excused himself to the kitchen to answer it.

"So, Bella," Bill said, "You're finally back in Forks, huh? Jacob couldn't stop talking about it."

"Looks like I'm here for the time being, anyway," I confirmed, deciding now was not the time to relate the details of this arrangement.

"It's good to have you back." Bill glanced conspiratorially towards the kitchen. "Your father hasn't been quite the same since the divorce."

I glanced over my shoulder to where Charlie was not so much talking on the phone as listening to the person at the other end, while interjecting the odd syllable of inquiry.

"He seems okay now," I said, and then something came to mind. "Neither of them ever told me why Mom wanted to leave Forks so much. You don't know, do you?"

Bill looked uncomfortable. "I think that's something you'll have to take up with your dad, really," he said. "All I can tell you is that there are lots of spirits living in the Olympic Peninsula, and not all of them are nice."

_Great_, I thought, _I ask for answers and he gives me weird Native American spiritualism._ I wasn't going to rag him for his beliefs, though.

"Tell you what," Jacob said, interrupting my thoughts, "Tomorrow I can show you around Forks a bit. A lot has changed since you left, and I figure you'll want to get your bearings again.

I grinned, my mood lifting again. "Great," I said, "While you're doing that maybe you could show me how to get to Forks High."

"Sure," he said.

Just then, Charlie returned from his phone call in the kitchen, looking vexed.

"Billy, Jacob, I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut this visit short," he said to the Blacks. "There's been another..." He stopped short and glanced at me. "I'm needed at work," he said finally. "Bella, you go on and finish unpacking and getting everything put away. I'll probably be home later, but there's no need to wait up."

"Okay," I said, a bit confused. Certainly nothing major happened in a town like Forks, right?"

"And Bella, I need you to stay put tonight. Don't go wandering around after dark, do you hear me?"

"But Dad-"

"Don't 'But Dad' me, Bella. I mean it. You've got a lot to do, and I don't want a bunch of shipping boxes all over the house for weeks."

I scowled. It wasn't like I was going to go for a walk in the woods or anything, not on my first day here. I wondered when Charlie started to get so protective, but then considered that it was because I was a teenaged girl and he was the sheriff of Forks. That didn't make it any less unfair, though-seven years on the other side of the country and he thinks he can just dive back into the "dad" role?

The Blacks bade us goodnight, and I watched Jacob maneuver his dad's wheelchair down the porch steps. Once at ground level, Bill took over, wheeling himself over to their van to drive home. I turned away from the door to see that Charlie was already set to leave, his gunbelt with not only his service revolver but also ammunition, cuffs, and a walkie-talkie securely buckled in place and his sheriff's fedora perched on his head. I saw that the vexed look had been replaced by an anxious one, but for only a split second before he saw me looking and put his Brave Face on.

"Don't wait up for me, honey," Charlie said, "I'm sure it's nothing but we have to check out everything."

Bullshit. Charlie was never a skilled liar, even in the department of little white lies told to one's offspring.

"Okay, Dad," I said, giving him a hug. "I'll see you in the morning, then."

"See you in the morning."

It took him a little longer than usual to let go, before he headed out the door into the deepening twilight, striding towards his police cruiser. He waved out the window before pulling away, and I waved back. Inside, though, I was left wondering what was bothering him so much.

By the time I finished tidying up enough to call it a night and go to bed, I found myself unable to sleep right away. Recent events conspired with the discomfort of the unfamiliar bed and the recent questions that ran in circles in my mind to prevent me from having any but the most fitful night of sleep.

End Chapter One.


	3. Chapter 2: Forks

CHAPTER TWO

I woke later than usual the following morning, from a dream about red, cat-pupilled eyes. The sun shone through my window, and a cool breeze ruffled the curtains. However, it did nothing to chase away the odd, mildewy smell in my room, a hint of something earthy and slightly foul. What's more, I didn't remember opening my window before I went to bed the previous night. I got up and shut the window, throwing the latch to lock it. Fresh air was one thing, but window phantoms were quite another.

I went downstairs ahnd found Charlie sitting at the kitchen table, staring zombielike at the morning paper while cradling a cup of cooling coffee in one hand.

"Morning, Dad," I said. He jumped, splashing a bit of coffee on the table.

"Dammit," he muttered as he sopped up the coffee with a handful of paper napkins, then looked up at me. "Morning, Bella. Did you sleep well last night?"

"Not really," I admitted.

He grunted a small chuckle. "You and me both." He groaned, rubbing his forehead.

"Did something happen last night?" I asked, concerned.

He waved me off. "I don't want you to worry about it, honey. It's just police business. The usual late-night complaints." He rubbed his eyes wearily.

I frowned in annoyance, but let it pass for now and changed the subject. "There was a weird smell in my room this morning," I said, "Maybe you should call someone to have it checked for mold."

"I'll do that today," he said, "When's Jacob going to pick you up for your tour?"

"I don't know, actually. I'll call him after breakfast. Do you want me to make you anything?"

"I'm not all that hungry right now," he said, "I'll get a bite to eat later."

So I fixed myself a bowl of cereal and a glass of milk for breakfast. After I finished eating, I put my dishes in the sink, noticing as I did so that last night's dishes were clean; clearly Charlie wasn't a typical divorcee slob.

I got Jacob's phone number from Charlie and called him up. He said he would pick me up in an hour, which was perfect because it gave me enough time to finish getting ready. I took a shower and washed my hair - thick and dark, a trait I'd inherited from Charlie, while my usually-fair skin and hazel eyes were gifts from Renee.

From the chilly breeze through the window I knew that the tank top and shorts I would have worn back in Phoenix this time of year would have been woefully inadequant, so I pulled on jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. By the time I finished pulling a comb through my hair, which fell past my waist and had apparently decided the local climate would be perfect for frizzing up, Jacob was almost due. I pulled on shoes and socks and started down the stairs, getting only halfway before the doorbell rang.

"I got it!" I called to Charlie. I slid on the area rug and whipped open the door, managing to prevent the rug in question from dumping me to the floor. As expected, Jacob stood there.

"Hi," he said with a smile.

"Hi," I returned, catching my breath as discreetly as possible.

"Ready for a tour of Forks?"

"You bet." I turned and called over my shoulder. "Dad, I'm going out with Jacob for a bit!"

"Be back before dark!" he replied. Again with the after dark thing. I wasn't twelve years old or anything-next year I'd practically be an adult. "Jacob, do you have my phone number?"

Jacob checked his cell phone. "Yeah," he confirmed.

"Okay," Charlie said, "Call me if you need anything."

"We will," Jacob said, and we left.

#

They day was gray and cloudly and cool, but the gray seemed to make certain colors, especially reds, greens, and blues, show up even more vividly. Jacob drove me around Forks, pointing out landmarks that were familiar from when I used to live there, as well as new things that had developed since then. The respecting trips down memory lane and into new territory was fun, and we easily spent hours reminiscing about times gone by. He also drove me to Forks High School and promised to email me some proper directions when we got home.

We had a sort of ambiguous lunch-dinner hybrid at one of the little cafes on the main drag, talking for a couple hours about everything and nothing, the past and the future.

"So," he said as the topics started to dry up, "How's your mom doing?"

"Remarried," I said, in what I thought was a casual tone, but something about it caught his attention.

"Something happen in Phoenix?" he asked, concerned.

I sighed and took a drink of my soda. "Phil. My stepdad."

"What about him?"

"He decided that he wasn't ready for kids. I mean, he was dating my mom almost since the divorce was final, and he knew she had a daughter, so how could he expect me to just disappear?" I was ranting, but at that point the floodgates had opened. "I mean, I was there first, and... and... and she just went along with it..." My throat had closed up and my vision blurred. Dammit, I was crying, but you know what? I didn't much care just then. I had thought I was fine packing up and leaving what had been my home for seven years, after being uprooted from Forks before that. I was starting to think I didn't really belong anywhere.

I felt a warm hand curl over mine. I opened my eyes and saw that Jacob had moved to the chair next to mine, and presently he put an arm around my shoulders. It wasn't the sneaky stretch-and-cop-a-feel gesture I'd heard of happening in so many movie theaters, but an actual gesture of comfort. I leaned against him, silutaneously embarassed and relieved that he was there.

"I know what it's like to not belong," he said, and didn't elaborate further. He didn't have to, really - growing up on the La Push reservation already set him apart from most people in Forks, and once he learned the ways outside the rez he found he was now different from the Quileutes who lived and worked their whole lives in La Push. He was caught between worlds, just like me.

We stayed like that for a bit, until I glanced out the picture window at the from of the café and saw that twilight was falling.

"Shit!" I hissed, jumping up from the table. "It's getting late."

Jacob glanced out the window. "Don't worry," he said, "I'll get you home. Just wash your face a bit first so your dad doesn't decide he needs to beat me to a pulp."

I managed a smile and a bit of a laugh and darted off to the ladies' room to wash the tearstains from my face. There was nothing to be done for the red eyes, but other than that I looked okay. By the time I came out Jacob had already paid for our food and met me at the door.

The wind had picked up a bit in the time we'd been in the café, I shivered with the chill, and Jacob put his arm around me again, apparently immune to the cold. As we walked back to his car, I had an eerie, hair-prickling feeling - not so much a feeling as a Feeling - that someone was watching us.

I glanced over, and in the deepening gloom I saw someone standing on the sidewalk across the street, under a dead streetlamp. The overall build looked male, but I couldn't get a good look at his face. I shivered and hurried to keep up with Jacob's long-legged stride.

"Problem?" he asked, glancing back.

"No," I not-quite-lied, "I just thought I saw something."

"Well, come on," he said, "I'd rather not get in trouble with your dad after you've only been back a day and a half."

As it was we only got back a short time before the sun was fully down.

Charlie was in the doorway, his best rendition of Disapproving Dad on his face.

"Sorry," Jacob greeted him, "We lost track of time."

"Make sure it doesn't happen again," Charlie said in return, "I already lost her once and I don't want to lose her again, do you hear?"

"Yes, sir." Jacob was doing a pretty decent impression of a scolded dog.

"Bella, inside."

I stepped inside the front door and turned back to Jacob. As I did so I saw a shotgun propped against the wall just inside the door. I glanced at Charlie in surprise, and he met my gaze levelly, knowing full well that I saw the gun. I decided to try to defuse the situation.

"Thanks for the tour, Jacob," I said, which seemed to take some of the edge off the scolded-puppy expression. One corner of his mouth ventured upward, only for the almost-smile to flee as Jacob caught whatever expression was on Charlie's face. I loitered in the front hall until Jacob had left and Charlie had closed the front door. He turned back to face me, and his expression was at the intersection of Relieved and Annoyed.

"A shotgun, Dad?" I asked. "_Really?_"

He gave me that steady look again. "You know that I want to keep you safe," he said, "And I really don't want to have to ground you before you've been here a week," he said.

"It wasn't really Jacob's fault," I said, "We got caught up in talking, is all. About old times." When his expression didn't change, I continued on. "Dad, he's _nice_. He's the only one here that I can really call a friend right now, and you know he wouldn't do anything to hurt me."

His expression softened then, and he sighed. "I worry," he said, "That's my prerogative as the police chief of Forks and as the father to a lovely seventeen-year-old girl. I just don't want anything to happen to you, is all."

"Dad, Forks has a population of maybe four thousand people. I looked it up. Things just don't _happen_ to people in small towns."

He gave a mirthless little snort of laughter. "If that was the case, Bell, they wouldn't need me around." He gave me a brief hug and then headed past me. I glanced at his retreating back and was struck by the thought that he looked very tired.

Something was going on in Forks, I decided-something that Charlie didn't want to tell Renee, otherwise why would she send me here? - and at that moment I thought it would be best for his sanity and mine to find out what that was.

Boy, was I ever wrong.


	4. Chapter 3: Shadows

The next couple of weeks were fairly uneventful. I signed up for my classes for this semester, got a part-time job working three evenings a week at a sporting supplies store named Mac's that catered to people who wanted to go camping and maybe bag a trophy for the wall, and just for funsies I also tried out for the archery team at school. I thought I did well (no bull's-eyes but I managed to hit the inner rings) but the coach, Mr. Quinn, said he would post the new roster the following week so I resolved to check back then. Then came buying textbooks for all my classes (_so_ expensive, but Charlie was paying for them). I hoped I would be able to make some friends here, but I knew from experience that it would take a bit for the New Kid smell to wear off.

During lunch period on my first day of classes, I noticed a bunch of older girls that seemed to congregate in a pack-all dressed in black fashions ranging from Hot Topic Standard to Elegant Gothic Victorian. Their hairstyles ranged from tight braids or loose, silky locks to sleek fashions like French rolls or chignons, and their makeup mainly consisted of bold eye shadow, heavy mascara, and lipstick that was a shade of red so dark it looked like fresh blood. Their nail polish-and all of them wore nail polish-was generally either black or that same shade of blood red, and a few of them wore lace gloves to show off how slender and elegant their fingers were. The ones who weren't already wearing high-necked shirts or blouses wore black or purple scarves. All in all they were pale, graceful, beautiful, and eye-catching. My stomach twisted with jealousy-I hadn't felt that beautiful since I was twelve, no matter how many times Renee told me I was. When again, what adolescent girl feels beautiful?

They breezed past me with the barest of glances-a dismissive "We have better things to do than breathe your air, peasant" kind of glance-and settled like down at what I would come to understand was their table.

I leaned over to a girl at my table that I'd recognized from Chemistry that morning. She was a pretty brunette with the delicate features of a china doll and her hair held back in a headband,

"Excuse me," I said, and she glanced over. Her face flickered with recognition.

"You're the new girl, right?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said, "We're in chemistry class. I'm Bella."

"Right," she said, nodding, "I'm Jessica." I filed this note away as she continued, "Isn't your dad the sheriff here?"

"He is," I confirmed, "Do you happen to know who those girls are over there?" I indicated the table where the painfully beautiful girls were even now chattering in their own private social bubble.

"Oh," Jessica smirked, "They call themselves the Shadow Girls. They like to prance about pretending they're vampires or something. That's why the scarves- to hide the 'bite marks'." She snorted. "I heard one of them telling the others how great it feels to be bitten. It's all a load of poser crap."

I snorted. "I'm surprised people believe in vampires up here," I said.

"Like I said, it's all poser crap. They want to be special snowflakes who all dress alike, so they make up this whole vampire thing so people won't bother them. I did see one of them faint during class last year, though. They say it's blood loss but I think the bitch's corset was just too tight."

I scanned the Shadow Girls and saw that one did indeed have her waist bound to waspish proportions with a corset over her clothing. I wondered how she breathed, let alone moved around, with that thing on.

I saw more of the Shadow Girls all through that first week-they weren't always together like a murder of crows or anything, but they were pretty easy to pick out in their individual classes. One of them sat next to me in English class, reading a copy of _Interview with the Vampire_ under her desk while the syllabus was being explained. Judging by the taped-up condition of the paperback, it was clearly a favorite of hers. I'd only seen the movie, but Tom Cruise was pretty hot as a vampire. If vampires were real and they looked like that, I'd happily go home with one of them-but then, there was the whole blood-drinking thing, and the likelihood that Charlie would probably blow a vampire's head off with his shotgun.

None of the Shadows Girls talked to me that whole first week. If they acknowledged me at all, it was with a look that suggested I was something gross stuck on the bottom of their platform boots.

Other than that, the first week of classes was about what I expected: English looked like it would be easy, Chemistry looked like it would be hard, and everything else fell somewhere in between. My first week at Mac's was pretty much training and orientation, plus my introduction to the Wonderful World of Stocking. People at work were decently friendly, though, lacking the What Is A Girl Doing In A Sporting Goods Store attitude that I'd half expected, and I befriended one of the guys who went bow hunting in the fall over the course of a shift we shared in the archery section. To mollify my dad, my shift manager Jeff walked me out to my truck after closing each evening, which ultimately suited me just fine once I saw how quickly it got dark at night. By Friday I had a handful of classmates that I said hi to but still only shared my lunch table regularly with Jacob... or "Injun Jake", as I learned his local nickname was.

"Doesn't that bother you?" I asked one day over lunch.

He smirked slightly. "I'm used to it. I've lived with it for the past few years, and I've learned to shrug it off by now. Besides, I can run faster than anyone else on the track team, so I think they're just jealous."

I glanced around. A fair number of people were looking at the two of us, not with any real interest exactly, but also not with what I could identify as hostility. Curiosity, maybe. Most of the rest, though, just ate their lunch in silence. There was not much in the way of conversation around us-just a low scattering of voices and that was it. It was an eerie sort of quiet, especially compared to the post-summer chattering I'd been hearing all week. Only the Shadow Girls seemed to be animated, conversing at their Special Table with the hushed, conspiratorial tones that made me think of a chapter of the Illuminati trying to covertly meet at Denny's.

"It's really quiet today," I said to Jacob, who nodded.

"Someone went missing a couple days ago," he said.

"One of the students?"

"Mm-hm. It happens from time to time."

"What, do they get lost in the woods?"

He glanced around. "Nobody really knows," he said, "And the not knowing is what scares the hell out of people."

I glanced up at the other students, who largely looked like frightened rabbits. Jacob seemed pretty calm, though, even if it was only for my sake.

"Do _you_ know anything?" I asked.

He looked awkward. "Nothing I want to tell you while you're eating," he hedged. "Look, I need to head to class soon, or I'll be late." He took my hand, in much the same way that he had in the café where I'd broken down. "Your dad has the best of intentions for you. Just... stay safe. Things aren't always as they seem."

With that, he released my hand, got up, and left. I glanced up at the clock and noticed he'd only been there for fifteen minutes-he still had tons of time before he had to be at his next class, the rat. I tried to put the whole conversation and everything it implied-mainly that Forks might be home to some sort of serial killer-to the back of my mind, figuring it would do no good to worry about what might or might not be happening in Forks all afternoon.

During a free period I tried to catch up with Jacob, but I wasn't familiar with the school or his schedule yet. As I searched, I happened to see the bulletin board outside the gym for the Archery team roster. Apparently a lot of other hopefuls had the same idea, because it took me a while to get to the front of the cluster of students. Well, as long as I was there, I figured I'd check to see if I made the team. It wasn't like Jacob was going to run off into the woods and abandon me just yet.

I gently elbowed my way to the front of the crowd-politeness was for people who didn't need to get to class on time-and ran a finger down the list of names looking for mine. There, towards the bottom of the S's, I found SWAN, ISABELLA. I'd made the team! I let out a whoop of victory and made my way back out of the crowd of hopefuls. I couldn't wait to tell Charlie and Jacob!

I stopped dead when I was out of the main crush-there, about five feet away, one of the Shadow Girls stood, giving me the sort of look that a wolf gives a rabbit when the wolf just happens not to be hungry. I froze, though whether it was from social awkwardness or base instincts I couldn't tell.

"He knows you," she said, in a voice that reminded me of melted chocolate. "He knows you and he'll be visiting you _real soon_." She smiled in a way that only touched her lips and swept off into the crowd.

"Hey!" I called after her. She didn't even turn. I followed, pushing through the sparse population of students in the hallway to keep her black-clad form in sight. I wove through the press of bodies like a snake through the trees in a forest until I caught up with her and grabbed her shoulder. She turned and hissed at me, baring fangs that I realized a startled moment later must have been caps. Had to be.

"What do you want, morsel?" she snarled, really playing into the I'm-a-bloodsucking-predator-and-you're-not thing. A little freaky, but I wasn't about to let her scare me. Overdramatic bitch.

"What the hell do you mean, he knows me? _Who_ knows me?"

"Edward Cullen," she said with a purr, "The young prince of his family. He's chosen you as his own."

"Never heard of him," I said.

"You will," she said with a smirk, "And if you prove yourself worthy, he will make you eternally beautiful." She pulled free of my grasp and walked away, leaving me standing there with a lot of questions in my head.

Who exactly was Edward Cullen?

How could he know me already if I've only been back a month?

What was that girl smoking?

What secrets did Forks hold?

I couldn't reflect on them just then, as I realized when I glanced at the clock and realized I would have to run to get to my next class on time. So much for talking to Jacob. Especially now that I had so many more questions to ask him.

I put the whole thing to the back of my mind so I wouldn't be such a spaz at school, and I was relieved to not see any more of the Shadow Girls that day. Something about that last conversation just rubbed me the wrong way.

The rest of the afternoon was pretty busy, and by the time school let out for the day I was ready to go home and just hang out with Charlie. However, I found Jacob waiting for me next to my truck. Thank God-I didn't want to have to hunt him down.

"Hey," I said, "How'd your classes go?"

"Pretty good. Any word about the archery team?"

I grinned. "I got in!" I chirped.

That's great!" he said, hugging me. "I remember you were pretty good with the bow and arrow when we were kids-you'll do great this year."

"Thanks, Jacob." I paused, my mind returning to the creepy conversation I'd had with the Shadow Girl. Jacob must have sensed it, because his own smile faded.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Have you heard of some guy named Edward at school?"

He frowned. "Not specifically, why?"

"One of the Shadow Girls was talking about him. She said that he was a prince of the Cullen family and he'd be visiting me or something." I managed a laugh. "Sounds like some weird goth crap, doesn't it?" It was then that I noticed that his posture had changed, like a dog that had smelled a storm coming. "What?" I asked.

"I don't know anyone named Edward, but I have heard of the Cullen family. They're from Europe or something originally, but came here a couple hundred years ago. Been in Forks ever since. My dad says they're bad news."

"Bad news how? Like are they a bunch of serial killers or something?"

He shook his head. "Don't know. But my dad says that ever since the Cullens came to Washington, there's been a steady stream of disappearances… one or two every couple of months, maybe."

"But we're right up by the woods. People get lost there all the time, right?"

He shook his head. "Not like this. I just have a bad feeling about this. You should talk to your dad tonight. If anything weird is doing on, he'd know."

"Okay, I'll see if I can pry anything out of him tonight. Take care."

"You too." He reached up and touched my cheek, a tender gesture that relaxed me immediately. He turned and walked away while I was still basking in the tingly afterglow.

I drove home, mulling over what I'd learned-both the good and the bad-and decided to start with the good news first over dinner, and then broach the tough topics afterwards.

When I got home, the porch light was on, as expected, and the front windows radiated a warming, inviting yellow glow. I parked the truck, jogged up the porch steps, and let myself in-but stopped in the front hallway.

It was quiet.

Really quiet.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up. Charlie was not one of nature's ninjas, as far as I knew, and if he was in the house certainly he'd be making some noise.

Right?

"Dad?" I called out.

"In here, honey," I heard his distant reply, and I exhaled in relief.

I found him just as he was coming out of the bathroom, buttoning the cuff on his uniform shirt.

"Hey, Bella," he said, "Good day at school?"

"Overall okay," I said, "But I did find out about the archery team." Excitement welled up and threatened to burst.

"What about the archery team?" he asked.

I only grinned, and the change in his expression when he got it was its own reward.

"That's great, Bella!" he said, hugging me. "I should have guessed, really."

"Why's that?" I asked. I'd been nervous the whole week about it, so it wasn't like either of us thought it was in the bag already.

"Somebody sent you a congratulatory gift. It's in the kitchen."

I frowned and glanced in that direction. As far as I knew, nobody at school knew where I lived yet-aside from Jacob. Maybe it was from him, but he'd only just learned himself. I shrugged and went to see what it was.

It was a bouquet of long-stemmed red roses, stuck in a tall glass emblazoned with the Superman insignia.

"I found them in a box on the porch," Charlie said behind me, "So I brought them in and stuck them in some water for you-I'll get a vase this weekend."

"Who are they from?" I asked, trying to think of anybody my age who could afford roses around here.

"Not sure," Charlie said, "But it looks like you must have a secret admirer already." He looked slightly amused. "Here's the card that was with them."

He offered me a card about the size of palm of my hand, and I opened it.

"Congratulations," it read, in elegantly pointed handwriting. Where a signature should go, I found only the initials "E. C."

E. C.

Edward Cullen.

The hair on the back of my neck stood up.


End file.
